Turn Around
by Seulement Moi CL
Summary: Gale comes back to see Katniss after Mockingjay, his trip doesn't go as planned. T just in case!
1. Return

Turn Around

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plots, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

When I finally reached the electric fence, I fell down on both my knees and put my face in my hands, hot, happy tears streaming down my cheeks. I could hardly tell how it happened, nor did I care. Be it the excitement of returning home for a short while, seeing Katniss again, or even the fact that my days of loneliness trekking through woods would finally end, I hardly cared.

Of course, I didn't have to walk. I could have taken a hovercraft, but I didn't, and it had taken me over a month to arrive. I didn't previously plan to walk, but a breath before I entered the hovercraft that was set to take me to District Twelve, I realized that it was important to walk. I remembered at one point, Katniss talking to me about leaving District Twelve, running away. At the time I had denied my longing to leave, to have a future with her, but I regretted that deeply. I wanted to walk, I wanted to prove to myself that I could have done it.

My old home was so different, when I arrived. Everything about it was different. The electric fence had been cut down to half it's size so that it could easily be jumped, and after I spent a few seconds climbing, and then fell over the other side, landing right on my tailbone, I realized that gates had been cut into the fence periodically to assist people in entering or exitting District Twelve as they wished.

I could hardly tell where I was when I arrived. I still think to this day that they ploughed everything and rebuilt the city from scratch with absolutely no concern or reminder as to where anything previously stood. Before me stood a magnificent town square, beautiful, intricately patterned stone floor, surrounded as it used to be, with nice little shops selling bread and scarves and leather boots. When I saw the podium atop the stage, though, I squeezed my eyes shut and kept walking. It was identical to the one all those years ago, the one that was used to announce the tradegy of my best friend becoming a tribute in the infamous Hunger Games. Whitewashed wood with a small, black microphone protruding from the left corner.

I opened my eyes again when I was sure it was out of my line-of-sight. I welcomed the sights of the rest of the District, the tall Mayor's house, certainly an update from the Mayor's house back when I was eighteen, just a child. I looked all around for inhabitants of the city, and finally spotted a young lady holding the hand of a small child, pushing an oversized navy carriage.

"Excuse me, Miss?" I called out, waving one hand above my head. She looked at me, just a quick glance, and suddenly her face became one filled with hate and disgust. She hurried away quickly, ushering the little girl walking alongside her to hurry along. I was confused, and a little disappointed. All I had wanted was to come back, to see Katniss and even Peeta, Greasy Sae, Haymitch, everybody who I left behind after the Capitol's defeat.

"Excuse me?" I shouted out, running after her. Seeing as I was obviously there on a bad day, as the town looked practically deserted, she was probably my only hope.

I had started out quite a bit behind her, but I knew I could catch up, especially with her pushing a carriage and watching over a small girl. My only hope was that she ran in a straight line, because after they renovated the District, I couldn't tell where I was going anymore.

"Miss, please slow down!" I said as I came up alongside her, and then my heart lurched, my stomach dropped, my head spun. I felt faint and dizzy and tired, all at once, and suddenly wished I had stayed home safe in District Two.

It was my longlost friend, my childhood companion, my first and only love. It was Katniss Everdeen, standing right in front of me. The reason I regretted coming was that her eyes were glitterig with malice, and her expression one of rage.

"What do you want from me, Gale? I thought I left you years ago," she said, her words both quiet and angry at the same time. She glared up at me defiantly while her daughter...

Oh God. That's when I realized it, and my stomach dropped again. Her children. She was that serious about Butter-Boy. I didn't know what else I was really expecting, she had loved him since she was a tender sixteen years old, what else would she have done? But it was like being shot all over again, like all of my years of shock and fear in the war condensed into one tiny moment.

"Katniss, look," I started, my speech coming off the top of my head. This wasn't how I planned it at all. "It's not like that, okay? I just wanted to come back for a visit..." she cut me off.

"Gale, we gave up on each other so many years ago, you know. When you killed Primrose, well, that was the final straw, okay?" I could see her beautiful grey eyes watering, her lip quivering, like she was about to break down and cry.

I gasped, horrified. She had yet to forgive me for that episode? I tried to keep my breathing even, tried to keep from getting aggrivated.

"Katniss, I'll tell you again, I only wanted to come to see you and Butter-b... Peeta and your children, and see District Twelve again. I've come all this way..."

She interrupted yet again. "Then you'd better turn around and go home."

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	2. Haymitch Helps

**I'm sorry this is short, I just wanted to get it posted. I have taken the fantastic advice left by a reviewer to heart and opted to continue this story. Chapter Three will be longer, promise!**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plots, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

I decided that it was best not to lose my dignity, so I did what Katniss asked. Almost. Instead of going home, I decided that maybe I would build myself a temporary home. So that explains why, less than ten minutes later, I had wandered around the whole of the District numerous times until I found myself standing in front of a large, wooden door, hand poised to knock.

Then, I couldn't believe I was doing it. I mean, I had hardly known Haymitch Abernathy, the only time we spoke to each other as actual aquaintances was right before the third Quell, when I had been asked to help himself, Katniss, and Peeta with snare trapping. Which I did, although Haymitch failed miserably and awaited my leave, Peeta tried and tried again but still couldn't do it, and Katniss passed with flying colors although she was completely distracted on the thought of the Quell.

I knocked once, loudly, afraid of who would come to the door. I knew Haymitch was alcoholic, so I was very scared of what would happen. But he was somebody who would have no reason to resent me, and that was a good thing after my brief encountered with Miss Everdeen, or maybe Mrs Mellark.

Eventually, the door opened. A large, clean-shaven man who towered over me by a noticeable amount answered the door, and I was immediately grabbed by the hand and swung inside rather violently.

I was pretty traumatized at that point, my heart beating so quickly it was making my whole body shake. I tried to calm myself down by taking a quick look around his house. It was large, with a foyer, an upstairs, and a downstairs, both of which I could see from where I stood. It was nicely decorated, with numerous hand-painted pictures hung up at straight angles upon the white-washed walls.

"Gale, my boy, great to see you again," the supposed Haymitch said in a booming voice. I could hardly believe it was him. The man I saw before I left Twelve was a sketchy, alcoholic man who had tuned out his troubles with drinks. The man before me looked like he could be a mayor, or an accountant, or something-or-other important.

"Haymitch... Abernathy?" I asked questioningly, to ensure that it was him. It seemed so unlikely that such a troubled man as Haymitch could have turned his life around so quickly, with such ease, and so well.

"Yes, that's me. Always was, always will be. Come, come sit down," he said, grinning from ear to ear as though he was a victor of the old Hunger Games, which he, as a matter of fact, was.

He led me into a small living room with polished-looking oak flooring. An oversized couch sat comfortably in one corner, and an oak table sat in the other. I was surprised he had enough money and resources to spend on such luxurious furnishings, or maybe I was just used to seeing District Twelve as a poor place, filled with poor people with poor pasts and poorer futures.

He plonked himself down upon the couch, and it was then that I noticed that he had also lost a lot of weight, and lost his sullen, hostile attitude. He patted the brown couch cushion beside him, an obvious invitation to sit down. I took it without hesitation.

"Haven't seen you in a while, Gale. How've you been doing?" he asked me, and I answered quickly without thinking. I was excited at finally finding somebody who might be able to offer me some sort of advice, and was hyped up on the thought of seeing Katniss and Butter-Boy, and meeting their children.

"Been better," I said, eyes cast downwards. Haymitch looked at me with a trace of concern.

"What's bothering you, Gale? I thought you were a reporter in District Two?" he asked, the last part sounding less like a statement and more like a question.

And there I was, as usual, pouring out my life story to this man who I hardly knew, in the off chance that he could possibly be of some assistance. I recounted and summarized the war, told him about moving to District Two, my sadness at leaving everything behind, especially my best friend, my family's untimely deaths, my reporting job, and even the fact that, after all these years, I was still in love with the girl who I saw that fateful day in the woods, the one who could use a bow and arrow with ease, sneak under the fence, and hold the weight of the world high upon her shoulders. By the end of my story, I was wiping tears from my face for the second time that day, but these were tears of sadness. I had only just realized how pathetic my life really was.

"Can you help me, please? I really want to see her again," I whined after explaining about my earlier encountered with Katniss. Haymitch had been patiently listening to me all that time, and watching without aggravation as I wiped my tears away. I could hardly ask for more, but I did, because I was and always have been a selfish man. Never settled for anything, always wanted more, more, more. Katniss pointed that out to me when we used to trade together at the Hob, but I never noticed it's meaning in real life until I was a grown man.

Haymitch looked down, eyes nearly closed, a disappointed look on his face. I was so scared he was going to break it to me, tell me there was no way he could talk Katniss into seeing me again, when he said a sentence that I will always remember, throughout my life, as the happiest moment I've ever had.

"We'd better go talk some sense into Katniss, hadn't we?" he said.

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	3. Engravings On My Heart

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plot, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

**Also, I can't believe I just got 2 updates in one day! Woot!**

Chapter 3

I spent a while in Haymitch's house, working on a second impression look. I combed my hair, ensuring it stuck flat, 180 degrees on my scalp. I straightened out my outfit to the best of my ability, although I had been wearing the same outfit since I left District Two. A simple pair of black trousers, white running shoes, and a green, long-sleeved shirt, that had once been one of my fancier shirts but was begging for a wash and destined to become a washcloth.

Haymitch and I walked out the door together, and I actually found myself liking the man. I mean, I had thought I would have resented him for essentially ruining my life, allowing Peeta and Katniss' romance, but I liked him for keeping Katniss alive in both Games, which was quite an accomplished feat, seeing as in the Quell, Katniss had her heart set on dying to save Peeta in some matyristical way, and somehow Haymitch saved her.

I had no idea what he was planning to get Katniss to talk to me again, to regain the friendship that I had so foolishly spoiled, but I hoped it was good. He probably didn't know how bad the situation was, because he didn't see the look of hate in her eyes when she saw me. It was the same look of hate that was shown so clearly in her eyes every time she mentioned either the Hunger Games or President Snow.

We walked through the District together, and I could see how everything pieced together by the time we arrived at the Mellark's house. Numerous streets were lined with stores, and Haymitch was able to point out the houses of multiple people who I used to know, such as Greasy Sae. But the best thing I saw all day was an exact replica of the old Hob, which was apparently identical inside as well. It was apparently used for the same thing, only the trade was no loner illegal, the Hob no longer a black market. Even the old dances, that used to take place late every Saturday night, still existed and continued as tradition.

When we finally reached Katniss' house though, I was shocked. It was beautiful, I hadn't the faintest idea how she built it. It was three storeys tall, with a huge front yard filled with hollow trees and large, grey rocks. The house itself was entirely wood, with little engravings everywhere. I assumed they were Peeta's doing, given his painting and artwork expertise. Engravings of Katniss and himself, and two young children, one in each of their arms. Pictures of Primrose, little Rue from the 74th Games, my mother, Hazelle, Haymitch, Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta, everybody they ever knew. My breath caught in my throat as I saw a picture I quite liked. An eighteen year old boy, wearing scruffy clothes, clutching a snare trap with a bow and arrow tossed carelessly to the ground beside him. The boy, it was me, the morning of the reaping before the 74th Games.

I could hardly believe it, I was so shocked. Katniss hadn't forgotten me, and she never would, seeing as my picture was engraved on the front of her house. My heart was racing, and this time it wasn't from embarrassment or fear or sadness, it was from a warm, fuzzy feeling of love and affection for this girl who had my picture on the front of her house.

"Lovely, isn't it," Haymitch said, but I was far too excited and breathless to answer him. I still have yet to get over that day, that one happy moment when I saw that she still thought about me.

We kept walking towards the door, which Haymitch didn't bother to knock at. Instead, he just turned the handle and walked right in. I hung back, as though I was unsure of whether I was allowed to go in or not, but he nodded and I cautiously walked inside. I was surprised she kept her door unlocked, then again, the only people in District Twelve now were her friends, they would never steal.

"Haymitch, that you?" I heard a man's voice call out from somewhere near the back of the house. Haymitch held a wide, still calloused (from the Games) finger to his lips, shushing me. I slipped out of my old running shoes, that looked more brown than white from all the walking I had done, and stood in my socked feet at the door. Haymitch proceeded into the house.

"Yeah, it's me, Peeta. Is Katniss here?" he asked. I nearly fainted. Peeta! I never thought I'd be even remotely happy to see the man who ruined my life, but there I was, really and truly thrilled.

"No, she went out, she's supposed to be back soon," Peeta called back. I was suddenly relieved, I'd rather not have faced her straight away anyway. I needed time to think, to prepare. I knew that whatever happened then would affect my friendship with Katniss until my death.

"Okay, do you mind coming downstairs, just for a moment?" Haymitch asked. Shoot! I was hardly ready to explain myself to Peeta, the man I haven't seen in years. Hopefully though, he was not as hardened towards me as Katniss was.

I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs, and suddenly, he appeared, not much different than when I last saw him during the wall. Bright blue eyes, the same curly blond hair, stocky appearance, muscular yet burnt arms from years of baking bread. He still looked sixteen, like he was when he was reaped for his first Games.

"Good afternoon, Hay-" he cut himself off and inhaled sharply, his ice blue eyes glaring right at me. But it was a soft glare, better described as a curious stare. I was very thankful for his leniency towards my sudden appearance.

I knew that his next words were crucial to my friendship with anybody left in District Twelve. Since I moved away, they were probably all against me and their ties leaning definitely towards Katniss.

"Gale," he acknowledged curtly, with a nod of his head. I could tell he was fighting to hide his surprise and confusion about my sudden appearance.

"Peeta. How've you been?" I asked politely, my words oozing courtesy. I smiled sweetly, trying to make a good impression. If he liked me, and Katniss loved him, she'd have to accept me, wouldn't she? Without thinking, I looked at Haymitch with a strange expression on my face, as if asking for advice for my own internal questions, but he just nodded at me, as though he thought I was doing a good job so far.

Peeta smiled too, but it looked forced. "Well enough, I've just got over my... issues... the ones from the war..." he trailed off as though the mental injuries were too painful to speak about, and I allowed him too. I knew exactly what he was talking about already, the time when the Capitol had possession of him, and they forced him to believe that Katniss was a mutation, one that he wanted desperately with every fibre in his body to murder.

"Well, it is nice to see you after all this time," I gushed, sounded annoyingly girly. It would hae to be worth it though, if it meant Katniss would think about talking to me again.

"Yes, you too. I suppose you haven't seen Katniss yet, she'll be back soon, I think she'll be excited to see you," he said, and for the third time that day I felt dizzy and sick to my stomach.

I shot a quick SOS glance at Haymitch, who closed his eyes, shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders as though he had no idea what to do. I was panicking. If I told him I had already seen Katniss, and he'd surely ask about her reaction, then he might kick me out of his house. If I lied and said that I hadn't seen her, then she would be sure to tell him later, and then he'd think me a liar, which would essentially lead to me being kicked out of their house.

I was in a tight spot and I knew it. So, in the moment, realizing that I was running quickly out of time, I just mumbled. "Mhm..." I said, very quietly, looking down at the ground.

"Well, do sit down, I hope you're having a nice time in District Two," Peeta said, right back to his talkative, polite, happy self. It was one thing I had to give to him, he was very conversational, and awkward moments ceased to exist around him. It was quite a change from talking to Katniss, simply because she left quite a few silences between her sentences. She thought a lot though, she had a lot to think about, so that was understandable.

I had just sat down on their small white sofa, fighting the urge to put my feet up on the small coffee table in front of me, when the door opened, and there, for the second time, was Katniss.

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	4. A Man In The House

Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plot, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

Katniss, not noticing me yet, reached down and lovingly picked a baby boy from the carriage she had been pushing. She left the carriage outside, and carried the baby boy, who's hair strongly resembled Peeta's, into the house. Her daughter, whose dark hair resembled her mother's, followed curiously after.

"Mommy," she started in a young, innocent voice. She pointed at me, but she was so small that her mother didn't notice. "There's a man in our house!"

Shoot! What was I going to say? I looked at Haymitch again, and he mouthed to me that he would handle it. I felt a flood of relief that started at my head and went all the way down past my toes. I had had a few minutes to plan and still didn't know what say. What if she really hated me? What would I do with my life-long companion, lost to Butter-Boy? What would I say, how would I tell her good-bye forever? Would it be like her final good-byes, before her first Games, where I was dragged from the room before I could tell her that I loved her? Would I be allowed to tell her all the things I never said?

"I know, sweetheart, that's just Haymitch... Oh God." Her face turned red, and then a bright white. She looked pale, ill, but also extremely angry. She was glaring right at me, and her whole body was shaking with fury. I was scared to death that she would drop her son in all her frustration.

I gave a stupid little wave, and immediately blushed. Would that have made me look immature? Cocky? Probably both, in fact. Knowing about Katniss' resentment towards me, she would find a million different ways to describe me, not a single one of them good.

"Haymitch, Peeta, why is he in my house?" Katniss asked, her voice shaking. I could tell she was so angry that she wanted to cry, because her voice had the same tone, said the same thing, as she explained to us about President Snow being in her house, all that time ago.

Peeta just shrugged, and looked down. He had nothing to say, and I didn't blame him. What would I have said in his situation? What on earth would I have done? How exactly would I explain to my only love that I had allowed the person who she hated most into her house.

I knew that, in her eyes, I was like President Snow. I knew that, in her eyes, it was all for nothing. She had gone through so much, Hunger Games, rebellions, to save Prim. And Prim died saving somebody else, and it was my own fault and no-one else's. I knew that there were only two people who had threatened, in her head, to kill her sister. One of which was President Snow, but the other was me. And I knew that I was worse than the old President, because I had carried out my threats. He hadn't. What did that make me, if I was worse than the man who killed countless children in Hunger Games for his own enjoyment?

"Good afternoon, Katniss," Haymitch said, and I was eternally grateful that I had somebody on my side. Maybe a former drunk who Katniss had had many disagreements with didn't count for much, but Haymitch did count for something.

"I heard from Gale here about how you treated him this morning. Katniss, if you had enough strength to lead a rebellion, how is it that you didn't have enough strength to face your old friend," Haymitch continued.

I thought Katniss was softening when she walked over to Haymitch, leaving her little son in Peeta's awaiting arms. Her daughter followed her like a shadow, avoiding me like the plague. I didn't blame her either.

How wrong was I. Katniss stood on her toes, so she was a few inches shorter than Haymitch. She put her hands on her shoulders to balance herself and stared him down, two pairs of silver eyes boring into each other.

"Haymitch. He murdered Primrose. Primrose was all I cared about in life, before I met Peeta. All I knew how to do was keep her safe. I went into the Games for nothing, she _died anyways_." Katniss said. Her voice was menacingly low and quiet, but it hit me with such force that it was like she was shouting. I wanted to break down and cry, I really did. I wrapped my arms around my dropping stomach and smiled sadly at Peeta, who was shooting me periodic sympathetic glances, perfectly spaced so that Katniss wouldn't notice.

Haymitch was unfazed by Katniss' words. He put his arms on her shoulders and gently pushed her down onto her flat feet. She was now almost a foot shorter than him, and she almost looked pathetic. She looked like the same fragile girl I left before the Games, not the one who had come back hardened and changed, ready and willing to lead the whole of Panem in a rebellion.

"Katniss, it was not for nothing. Think about all the children who died in previous Games, think about your own father, he died in the mines, think about how things like that would have continued. Katniss, your only family is your mother, your only friends are your husband and children, and a former drunk. Open your eyes," Haymitch said.

I felt immensely proud, like he was my own son. I saw Katniss' expression soften, like she was actually making sense of what he was saying. It was so true, but so pathetically sad I wanted to cry. Her only blood relative was her mother, her only only friends her husband and children, and a former drunk. None of them counted for a lot, but neither did I. Did it matter anymore? Anybody who lived in Panem had been in the rebellion, either on our side, or on the Capitol's side. Did any of us count for anything? After we had murdered each other in such despicable ways, including our side of the rebellion, what did we still have to say for ourselves?

"Oh, Haymitch," Katniss moaned, and wrapped her arms around him. She muttered apologies to him, but still didn't acknowledge me. I was immensely happy though, so happy that I wanted to jump up and down. She understood his point of view! Katniss and I, we could, we would regain our friendship.

"What did you name your children?" I burst out when she finally let Haymitch go, who then proceeded to shoot me a joking relieved look.

As though I didn't have enough shock that day already, she just glared at me. Peeta quietly padded across the room, passing his son to Haymitch. He motioned with his arms for Katniss to speak, but she didn't.

Katniss' daughter, who looked about five or six, put her little hands on the couch and climbed up. She was short, like both Katniss and Peeta were, so she had to climb up in a somewhat awkward way that tore my heart in two. I saw how much their daughter resembled Katniss, I could see determination in her eyes, her long eyelashes and raven hair, olive skin. Then only thing that kept her from looking like a replica of a Seam child was Peeta's bright blue eyes, which sounded out of place on her dark body, but actually looked sweet.

"Hello, Mister," she said, her voice high and cute. I moved my mouth into an 'o' shape to stop the smile from spreading across my face, but nothing I could do would stop the happy blush from invading my cheeks.

Suddenly, Katniss snapped. "Johanna, come here," she said, unhappily. Her daughter jumped from her perch beside me and ran to her mother's side, making her look even tinier than she did when she was trying to get on the couch.

Haymitch shot Katniss a warning glare. "I thought you agreed with me, I thought you were going to give him a chance," he said questioningly. He raised his eyebrows at me, like he had no clue what was going on. I raised my eyebrows back.

"Actually, I absolutely did not say anything of the sort. I just agreed with you, my life is miserable," Katniss protected.

Haymitch stifled a chuckle. "You`re hopeless, aren`t you?" he asked her, and she tried hard to stop herself from grinning.

"I guess I am, Haymitch," she said jokingly, but suddenly she was serious again. "Really though, I still hate him. I won`t forgive him," she said, grimacing.

"Charming, aren`t you? You couldn`t be a little more compassionate, agreeable...?" Haymitch asked, joking around. I could tell he was trying to keep the mood light.

"No, I couldn`t," she joked. Ahe thought for a moment, her face pensive instead of angry."I guess I`ve got about as much charm as a dead slug," she finally said, and convered her mouth. All three of them laughed, but I looked about as confused as their children, what Katniss said was hardly funny. I didn't really cared though,thank God Katniss was keeping the mood light. Haymitch`s plan was working better than I thought. At this rate, Katniss and I would be best friends again in under an hour.

I could pretty much tell that Katniss was no longer disgusted with me, she just wanted to hold me at arm's length. Which aggravated me because she could easily hold me closer.

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	5. Unlawful

Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plot, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

Peeta, obviously sensing Katniss' upset and turmoil over her supposedly pathetic life, wrapped his arms around her lovingly and gave her a long, lingering kiss. She returned the hug in such a loving, sickly fashion that I felt as though I had been intruding on them, when really, I was in this room before Katniss arrived.

I gave Haymitch a look of concern, and he responded by raising his eyebrows. I wanted to say something that would ease the tension, make the moment less awkward, but I couldn't think of anything off the top of my head.

Eventually, the kissing and hugging stopped. I couldn't help but wonder if that was what it was like all the time, or if Peeta was putting on a show for me. What would make him hate me so much? It was so much like one of those love stories my mother used to tell me, the miserable ones about the love triangles, when one boy gets the girl. Peeta was the lucky one here, not me, so if anything I, and I alone would have a reason to resent him, not the other way around.

Then, there was a short period of time, where all four of us stood around awkwardly, Katniss' daughter skipped around her mother and father, and Katniss' son sat patiently in Haymitch's soft arms.

I twisted the old, frayed piece of rope around my wrist. I had tied it there before I left District Two, hoping to show Katniss... _bam! _

It was as though I had been blown backwards by one of those bombs in the arena, the one that caused Katniss' a week of hearing issues. Thankfully, I was seated, otherwise I probably would have fallen over as the memory came back to me.

_I took a small rest, resting my back against the tree and bending my knees, slowly resting my bottom on the soft ground. Hunting in the woods, again, on a happy summer morning. I was happy to be alone, away from my family, not because I disliked them but simply because they were a little... loud. Posy especially, dragging me away from my accounting that I could only try to keep up with to play pretend, imaginary games with me. _

_Suddenly, I heard a rustle near the tree I was sitting at, and peeked out the side. I was expecting to see a pack of wild dogs, or some sort of animal, so I steadied my hand around the knife in my belt and placed my feet so that I would be ready to run. _

_Instead, a girl, who could only be a year or two younger than I, stood on her toes, reaching high upwards to take a close look at me snare. I could only see her back, but it only took me a moment of looking at the braided hair to recognize her as the pretty girl from my father's funeral, also the funeral of her father and many other mining men. _

_I remember she struck me as pretty, and I remember her father and Locker Everdeen, seeing as her father and mine were great friends, but I could hardly remember her first name. _

_"That's dangerous," I called out, and she whipped around, shocked. I was scared she may have cut her finger on the hook of the snare, the way she turned around to face me. She was blushing, her cheeks stained a red that looked out of place with her midnight black hair and silver eyes, same as mine, the classic Seam look. _

_"What's your name?" I asked curiously as I walked cautiously towards her. I knew full well that when people were startled, they were on the defensive side, and although she was small and thin, she could easily wound me with a knife, or the impressive bow she was carrying, if I wasn't on the lookout. I untangled the rabbit that hung from the wire, gently moving her fingers from the rope so I could hook the meal around my belt. _

_I swear she said Catnip. I really do. She said it so quietly, so timidly, and although I was standing a few inches away from her at this point, I could hardly hear. _

_"Well, Catnip, stealing's punishable by death, or haven't you heard?" I said, immediately on the defensive. Hunting was a solitary activity, and this meat was for my family. If some selfish girl, no matter how pretty, wanted to take it for herself, well, my family would go to bed even hungrier than they already were. _

_"Katniss," she corrected quickly, and I blushed with embarrassment. "And I wasn't stealing it. I just wanted to look at your snare. Mine never catch anything."_

_I was immediately slightly ashamed. Of course she wouldn't steal from me, she knew I was in a predicament just as bad as hers surely was. Besides, with such a fantastic bow and arrow, she was probably better off catching food with that instead. We were both criminals anyways, poaching off the Capitol's land was a fatal offense. _

_I pretended to scowl. "Where'd you get the squirrel?" I asked, an obvious joke and invitation for her to talk to me about her way of hunting. Unfortunately, she took me seriously. I guess, between feeding families (which I already knew was what she was doing) and worrying about the next Hunger Games, there was hardly time for jokes in District Twelve. _

_"I shot it," she said, pulling her fantastic bow off her shoulder and holding it out so I could see it, as though I was a Peacekeeper, and she was trying to prove herself innocent. As if! The Peacekeepers never did anything, which was definitely a good thing. _

_"Can I see that?" I had asked in wonder, and she held it out even further. "Just remember, stealing's punishable by death," she said. I smiled, she didn't. I wondered if it was really a joke, if she even knew what a joke was, and so I busied myself in inspecting the bow._

_I decided that I desperately wanted one, thinking about how light it was, how easy to carry, and how convenient. I had been trying to make one, but all of my attempts had failed miserably. When I promised that I would teach her what I knew about snares in exchange for a bow, her silver eyes lit up until they were blue-tinged. _

Months after that episode, I finally taught her what I knew about snares. She was pretty good at making them, I remember that. By that point, she and I, we were hunting partners, and we were friends. We were all each other had in the lonely, death-filled world of District Twelve.

So, I kept a piece of the rope we had used. I remember doing it, quickly stuffing it into the oversized pocket of my hunting jacket, praying she wouldn't notice. It was that night that I realized how much I loved her, how she was far more than a friend to me. It was then that I started thinking about our future, if she would marry me. But that was before this, before her fake romance that turned real, before the rebellion, before I devised a bomb that killed her sister.

Snapping back to the present, I decided that maybe it would be best just to show her the rope.

**Another huge thank you to my reviewers! Reviews actually make my day! **


	6. Apologies

**Three updates in one day? Aw yeah! I told you reviews make me happy! **

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plot, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

Chapter 6

I softly padded across the room towards her, pulling the rope, which I had twisted into a bracelet, off my wrist. I held it tightly between my thumb and forefinger, ensuring I would not drop it.

I reached Katniss, and Peeta backed off a little, smiling at me and mouthing "good luck". I smiled back, and closed my eyes tightly, praying for a miracle. I opened my eyes again, waiting for the room to stop rocking back and forth, something that often happened when I was nervous, and gave Katniss my biggest smile. She still frowned.

"Katniss, look," I started, having no idea where I was going to take my speech. "I... I... do you still remember when we met?" I asked, still without a clue as to what I would say next.

She nodded, and I was extremely elated to see her eyes softly close, her face softening. "You thought I was stealing your rabbits," she said wistfully, and I assumed that possibly, that was not the best time to tell her that what she had thought for her whole life about her stealing rabbits was wrong. Instead, I just answered her, even though she had made a statement, not a question. It was just the way the words lingered in the air, demanding a response, that made me think they were posing as a question.

"You thought I was stealing your bow," I said, and she laughed. "I was joking," she protested, and blushed.

"I know you were. I was joking about the squirrels." She was then condemned to laughter, muttering little things about how she had always thought I had been serious. I was thrilled, she was warming up. I was close to the stage were we were going to be friends, which was something I would not expect from her reaction this morning.

"Look, I've got something to show you," I said, dangling the yellowed, frayed rope under her eyes and swinging it back and forth like a hypnotist. Her eyes followed it, and I could tell by her puzzled expression that she was trying to place the article somewhere in her complex, haphazard life.

"It's the rope, from when you were making snares with me, for the first time," I said, and just waited for her response.

She gave a happy smile, and I wanted to jump up and down and hug her. She laughed, just a little, and snatched the rope from my hands, holding it to her neck. Her eyes were closed tightly, but somehow she gave me a perfect hug without hesitation.

I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling her fresh, apple scent. It was the same way she smelled on that fateful day in the woods, the one when I kissed her without warning. I still had no clue what she thought of that kiss, but it wasn't planned, and it was completely uncalled for, so I was too embarrassed to ask. Maybe I should have, but it was too late now. It was too late for pretty much everything now.

"I'm so sorry, Gale," she said when she finally let me go. Her eyes were filled with tears, some of which were already making the journey down her pale face. She wiped her eyes, but it didn't do much, and her fingers came back drenched in salty tears. I looked at her and raised my eyebrows, inviting her to go on.

"I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. I could do no worse, could I?"

"You could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him," Haymitch added, and Peeta laughed as though recalling something funny. Haymitch chuckled, but Katniss did not look at all amused.

She touched my hand, and I intertwined my fingers with hers. It was so obviously just a friendly gesture, seeing as she was already married, but I couldn't help but wish that it was something else, I couldn't help but wish that all those Games, that rebellion, that those things hadn't changed us. I couldn't help but wish that we had stayed the same, no matter how strong my hatred for the Capitol, that we still spent our weekends walking together in the woods, struggling to find enough food to feed our families, and worrying about the upcoming Games. Although, of course, I didn't really want that to happen, it was more of a longing for the old life to come back again, or maybe just some aspects of it.

She led me down their long hallway, leaving Haymitch and Peeta behind to make probable small talk. I noticed paintings, nearly identical to the ones in Haymitch's house, hanging on the walls, and I assumed immediately that they were Peeta's, thinking far back to when Peeta and Katniss had to create 'talents' after the Games.

She led me into a crimson colored room, with two chairs set up in the middle, and a soft carpeted floor. The room felt cozy, with the small fireplace on one of the walls, and the loving paintings hanging, that I had to admit were very good.

She took one of the chairs, and I remained standing awkwardly until she gestured to the other. I gratefully took a seat, and once again resisted the urge to put my feet up on the raised table between us.

"Gale, can you listen to me, just for a moment," she asked, and I nodded. She looked genuinely worried, and I was scared for her too, but also happy that she was no longer comparing me to President Snow.

"I'm sorry, this may be a long speech. When Primrose died, well, I had to blame it one somebody. Logically, it was Coin, but once I killed her, there was nobody left to hate. I can't live without hate, and you know that, because hate and fury are all I've ever known. The only people left living, and most of the dead, were and are people who I love. So, because blaming it on somebody who was dead, who I could so easily ignore, it was too simple, I blamed it on you. You, it was hard to ignore, but I somehow convinced myself to hate you with an unimaginable passion. I pushed those afternoons in the woods behind me, I forgot how you always had my back, and I burned the letters that you sent. It got to the point were I had myself so indulged in the pretend hate, that I actually started to despise you."

I nodded my head as she looked at me, as though asking for confirmation as to whether or not to continue.

"See, Prim meant everything to me," she continued, her eyes watering, wiping tears away from her face. "But so did you, and that was what I forgot the most, that you meant something too. You had a place in my shattered heart, and you always will. But it took you walking all the way here, it took years of solitude, for me to finally understand that. So I'm sorry, I'm sorry I ignored you, and I'm sorry that I couldn't choose you. I would have, we both know that, but the Games and the war, they changed everything and everyone, and after I was already so taken with Peeta, and so involved in my little pretend hate with you, well, I couldn't bring myself to love you. But I love you, Gale, not in that romantic way that I think I used to love you, but in a new, twisted way, a way that means we're friends."

_I love you. We're friends. _The words echoed repeatedly in my head. She used to love me! We can be friends again now, she doesn't hate me, she doesn't blame me for killing her sister, oh God! My life, my other half, she came back to me then, and that other half was Katniss. She was all I had left, and all I have left. She was all I ever had.

"You see, Gale, that's why..." she trailed off, blushing. Her shoulders were slumped, her head looking down. She looked very embarrassed, maybe at the fact that she had just poured her heart out to me.

"Please, continue, Catnip," I said, grinning, happy that I was once again able to call her by the old nickname.

"Well, the fact that I used to love you, and the fact that the hate I felt for you was illogical, that's why I kept a piece of the rope, like you did, from that fateful day when you taught me snares."

She looked down again, and I resisted the strong urge to get up and kiss her.

**Please do review! I'm surprised I got this spell checked and posted so fast! Thanks to all the people who have reviewed, I really do appreciate it! I hope you all liked Katniss' speech, I worked hard on it, and my eyes were watering by the end of it! I'm sorry that was short chapter, but I still have to think about where I want to go next (I have the story pretty much planned out, but I don't have a very good order to the events... if that makes any sense to anybody... ?) and I wanted to post this chapter so I could think, and maybe write more today! (I am officially obsessed with writing. No, I swear, I am)**


	7. Life's Losers

**Author's Note: I'd just like to send another huge thank-you to all my reviewers, especially EStrunk, your faithful reviewing is fantastic! You're all amazing!**

**By the way, unfortunately I probably can't update tomorrow (June 11th), I can probably update June 12th, and unfortunately it is absolutely impossible for me to update on June 13th/14th. :( **

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plot, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

She finally looked up at me, after quite a while of looking down, obviously embarrassed at all of her confessions.

"Gale," she said sincerely. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart."

I don't know what was so special about it, maybe the way her head was tilted down or how her eyes looked at me from beneath nearly closed lids or even just the way that she said it, but I felt my eyes watering. It was just so sweet, and so sincere.

Trying to act macho about it, I blinked desperately, numerous times, until the tears cleared and my vision was no longer ridiculously blurry.

"Guess we've got a lot of catching up to do," I said, desperate to distract her from my watery eyes. I wanted to keep the conversation bright and happy, not a display of regret from a doomed lover and a girl who managed to get what she wanted, only to figure out that she had left a lot behind. Catnip left me behind, she left our hunting behind, she left a lot of her friends behind. She had little in the world, but she still carried on. And that was what inspired me to come back and visit her.

"Yeah, I guess we do. How's District Two?" she asked me. Desperate for a new angle, and to keep the conversation going, I launched headfirst into a huge long speech about my reporting job, and how I had taken so much time off to come and see her, but wasted so much of it walking through the woods, and how I wished that someday she would watch me, and I even confessed that the reason that I was such a good reporter was that I pretended that she was watching.

That left Katniss extremely excited, happy, and surprised that I still thought about her like that, which surprised me also. I didn't think that she'd be thrilled, I expected her to be either indifferent or creeped out, but I was pleasantly surprised with the outcome: neither.

She proceeded to tell me about her life in District Twelve, and how happy she was to see me again, and how she regretted hating me throughout all those years. "So, I owe you a million apologies, Gale, but I can't bring myself to say them all without crying. So I'm sorry, because I owe you too much to give," she said, after explaining all about her new life, and how she continued hunting, and how Peeta continued painting and baking, and how thrilled she was that Haymitch had cleaned up his act.

She reminded me of Effie Trinket, the way she could talk and talk. Unlike Effie, she could have an interesting conversation and would not bring up schedules or how the slightest delay would slowly torture everybody to death with their frustration at being late for every single event in the next three months.

"What did you name your children?" I asked, sincerely curious. I had always wondered that, since she married Peeta, what would she name them. Would they be named after her sister, Primrose, or Rue, who died with a spear through her chest in the arena, or maybe after her father, Locker, or Finnick, or even her designer, Cinna? There were so many deaths in the Games, in the rebellion, that she could not possibly honor all the dead with her children's names. So what had she chosen?

"Johanna Mellark, and Haymitch Mellark," Katniss said without hesitation. I was so surprised I couldn't help but burst out with a rather impolite question.

"You didn't name them after..." I realized what I was saying and shut up before I could ruin our fragile, repaired friendship. How could I ask this girl why she hadn't named her daughter after her dead sister, the one who she would risk her own life for to save, the one who was the only person she was sure she loved at one time, or Rue, who she sung to death in the flower field in that ugly, yet so beautiful arena. How could I ask her why her son was not named after Finnick, who died for what he believed in, or Cinna, who died for Katniss' rebellion, or her dead father, who never saw what his daughter became, who never saw her defeat the Capitol and win two different Hunger Games, and single-handedly led the rebellion to defeat the Capitol yet again, and succeed?

"No, Gale, I couldn't. i couldn't ask them to carry the heavy burden of the dead. Besides, I could not honor all of the dead, and it would be unjust to just forgot half of them," she said, and it made sense. How could she ask her children to bear the names of others, who were long dead?

I wondered how the dead would be remembered. In District Twelve, and some of the other Districts, it had been uncommon to bury the dead. It seemed far too identical to the Capitol. So how would they be remembered, if there was no grave to mark their name, no funeral to mention their accomplishments?

"Gale, in life there are winners, and there are losers. Winners die for a reason, or for what they believe in. I didn't want to name my children after losers, but I had to name them after survivors," Katniss said, interrupting my worrisome, depressing thoughts that I would probably go back to later, lying awake in the early hours of the morning.

I thought about Katniss' philosophy for a moment, and suddenly could place it with everybody close to her who died. Prim, she died for what she believed in, as did Finnick, Cinna, and many others. Rue, on the other hand, she died for a reason, she died in the arena so that Katniss would win, so that Katniss would start the spark that led to rebellion.

"I understand, Katniss," I mumbled, too deep in thought to speak clearly. The conversation was taking a depressing, sad, unfortunate turn, and that was certainly not the way I wanted it to go.

"I like your house," I burst out, and only afterwards did I realize that even the subject of houses could be turned around, could suddenly turn into upsetting, tear-striking talk of the dead who were remembered in her house. I wondered if maybe that was the way they would be remembered?

"Thank you, the artwork is all Peeta's. It's my way of remembering everybody who was important to me," she said sincerely, and smiled brightly.

Important to her? "Why did you engrave me, if you hated me?" I asked her.

"See, Gale, this is complex. While I hated you, a little part of me was nagging at me, reminding me of all those moments we shared together. So, that explains the house, but it does not explain how I treated you earlier. I was in shock. I didn't know how to respond, and the emotion that followed your name was anger, so that's what I portrayed," she explained, and I laughed. I didn't mean to laugh, I just didn't know how else to fill the overpowering silence, and her words just seemed so... fitting... to the girl I left behind on reaping day, before the seventy-fourth Games, when we shared berries in the woods. Her body returned from the Games, very much alive, but her head was so changed, so taken with the idea of a fake, or a real, romance with Peeta Mellark.

"So, tell me about your life here," I blurted, trying to rid my head of unpleasant, violent thoughts of Peeta, and even worse thoughts of how I could have better planned everything, how I could have volunteered in Peeta's place, having my own fake, or real, romance with the girl that I loved.

I reminded myself that I had been so sure that only one tribute would win, and how the option was just forbidden and ridiculous, going into the Games with my best friend. I reminded myself how no romance, no matter how real, would have ever worked, seeing as neither Katniss nor I was willing to act and smile for the cameras.

"Well, really, the only people that you would know who are left here would be Greasy Sae, Haymitch, Peeta, and I, but our district really has gone long way since the rebellion, it's looking nice and perky, not old and run down like it was all those years ago," she explained to me, and I couldn't help but be reminded of those school days long ago, the teacher explaining the same thing to the child who just could never understand. Usually, that child was me, I was often distracted, and I couldn't help but get that feeling again. By the tone of Katniss' voice, I could tell she had spoken the same words numerous times, but to who? Her children? Would she have explained about the rebellion to them, at such a tender age? Why? Why not? She had always seemed so eager to protect someone, always needed to do so, so would she not logically protect her children from knowledge of the rebellion? Or would she, instead, protect them from the silliness of not knowing about the rebellion?

"Other people must surely live here, though," I said, and that simple statement asked for names, dates, and numbers, figures she probably was unable to give off the top of her head.

"Oh, yes, of course. From what I've seen, it's the fastest growing district out of them all."

"You've been to other districts?" I asked, somewhat doubtfully.

"Yes, my mother is now a travelling medic, I visit her every now and then, I've seen most of the other districts."

"You've seen District Two?" I asked, already completely sure of the answer. No, of course she wouldn't have gone. Why would she have gone when she hated me so?"

"No, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had myself convinced that I would do it, but on the train... well... I just couldn't go. I stayed numerous overnights in District Three instead, and awaited my mother's return."

"Oh," I said simply, just because I could hardly think of anything else to say. It was too much to bear that she had once hated me like that, hated me so much she wouldn't even enter the district that I inhabited. That made me even worse than President Snow, at one point, because Katniss would go to the Capitol, but she would not even enter District Two.

But we were friends now, no matter how much I wanted more, and I knew that that was the way it would stay. That alone was a huge step forward, but I couldn't escape the feeling that it wasn't enough to satisfy me. I also had a strong feeling that no matter what, I would never be satisfied.

**Thanks again to all my reviewers! Please keep on reviewing, reviews make my day!**


	8. One Last Time

**Thanks again, reviewers! I know that this is super short... I'm sorry :( Maybe I'll post another one today!**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plot, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

"So, what about you," she asked me, oblivious to my disappointed, depressed reaction. I thought quickly as to how to answer her. How do I tell her that I've spent all those years since the war at home, moping about my lost, unrequited love, only leaving my home for my reporting job, which I only held in the hopes that someday Katniss would watch me, and realize her true love for me. As if! I'd given up on that prospect years ago, it was hopelessly pathetic and pathetically hopeless.

"Uh, well, I already told you about my job, District Two's nice enough, I miss hunting in real woods thought."

She raised an eyebrow, reminding me that she had no idea why I hunted in artificial woods on weekends, why my life was so helplessly pathetic that I was unable to continue hunting like I did as a child.

"See, District Two used to make weapons, right? And, they needed to be tested..." I stopped talking, wondering if she understood what I was saying. She was staring intently at me, biting her lower lip, and it was ridiculously obvious that she had no clue what on earth I was getting at.

"Well, here you rebuilt the Mayor's house, the stage, the town square. And there, they used to test weapons in artificial woods, and well, they rebuilt them." That was all they had, they were all so pro-Capitol that they would never test weaponry on the Capitol's own land, although hypothetically it was all the Capitol's land, all that time back.

Katniss still wasn't understanding, but I really was not looking forward to explaining what I was actually trying to say. How could I tell her? _Look, Katniss, I lead such a pathetic life that I miss deeply hunting in the woods with you, and therefore I wake up early and book days off work to hunt with weaponry that nobody, not even the mayor of District Two, knows why we still have, in some artificial woods that were probably used for the training of tributes that killed our own tributes back when the Hunger Games still happened? _

No. I couldn't possibly say that, it made me sound crazy. I decided to tone it down as best I could.

"Well, I guess..." I couldn't do it. I knew what I was going to say, but I couldn't say it. The words froze in my throat, like those countless times I had myself all worked up and prepared to tell Katniss how I felt about her, but I was too scared. This was just a replay.

"I miss hunting in the woods with you, Katniss. I'm sorry I'm not making much sense," I blurted without thinking. I covered my face with my hands, resting my elbows on my knees, and shook my head softly from side to side, trying to cover my cheeks, which were undoubtedly stained crimson from sheer embarrassment.

Katniss obviously had trouble making the connection between reconstructed artificial woods and missing her companionship, but something in her face softened and nearly melted away.

"We could... um... go hunting again, I guess. I mean, if you wanted too?" she asked, her voice raising at the end of her sentence so that it sounded like a question.

"No," I said simply. After years of her doing so much for me, I wouldn't, couldn't allow her to do one more thing. But I knew all my attempts were completely futile, that no matter what I said or did, we would go hunting again. And that made me happy, but inexplicably depressed, just the fact that it was so definitely the last time we would do so, unless I was invited back to visit again.


	9. Unfortunate Sleep

**This chapter is the second part of chapter eight. I had this idea, but I desperately needed it to start as a new chapter, so I split chapter eight into two parts (Chapters 8 and 9)**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, all plot, themes, characters, and quotes listed therein legally and rightfully belong to their legal owner, Suzanne Collins. I do not own any titles, ideas, characters, or plots listed herein, nor do I claim to. **

I slept at Katniss' house that night, her and I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, after Haymitch had left with his promises of being back tomorrow to see the children, Johanna and Haymitch Mellark had been put to bed, and Peeta had retired to his room.

Katniss had made up a little bed on the large couch I had sat upon when I first entered their lavish house, after apologizing profusely for their lack of a guest room. The couch was quite alright, though I was scared I was going to fall off it and go rolling all round their house in my sleep. It had been made up with a fluffy white pillow, white sheets, and a warm white duvet that I had to wonder where it had come from. The duvet was hardly necessary due to the lovely fall temperature, but I had forgotten the inexplicable plummeting of the temperature during District Twelve's long, hard nights.

Snuggled underneath numerous soft, white linen sheets and a thick white duvet, I calmed myself with thoughts of Katniss. I tried to banish the regular warfare nightmares that often crowded my dreams, the one thing I realized that I still had in common with Katniss, and probably the only thing I'll every have in common with Peeta, other than his love for Katniss Mellark.

I somehow eased my pain of their marriage. I reminded myself to stop wondering what I could have done to stop it, how I could have perfected my future. I reminded myself that if Katniss was happy, I was happy, and seeing as we were friends again, no more Capitol or Hunger Games or President Snow hanging over us, then my current life was one that I would have done everything for before the rebellion, when I was young and unpleasantly worrisome.

I looked forward to the next day, when hunting would be the same as always, almost. But this time, I realized that it might be different. Before it seemed important, but now it seemed like more a passtime. I couldn't decide which I liked better.

I had found out from hours and hours of talking to Katniss that she also continued hunting, out in the real woods. She still thought about, and missed, her father, and it was painful for her to let him go, just the same as she had let go all the other dead. I knew that her father was so different, though, and I felt the same way, that giving up hunting would be like giving up my father forever, something I could never bring myself to do, despite the circumstances. I supposed that was my fatal flaw, I just can't let go. Another thing I had in common with Katniss. So that's why we both continued hunting, why I just couldn't bring myself to forget about my snares that my father had taught me, the same way she couldn't forget about her bow, the same bow that she had used to win the first Hunger Games, how she outsmarted the second, how she won the rebellion and executed Coin, who was only the same, or worse, than Snow.

I found it hard to sleep, my brain was too active. It spun with images of Katniss and I hunting, and then Katniss in the Games. Somehow, at some point, they merged together, and Katniss was coming at me with a bow and arrow, ready to shoot. My eyelids flickered open, and I smashed myself in the forehead a few times with the back of my hand, and slammed my head off the couch for good measure. I wouldn't allow myself to imagine such things, they would only drive me deeper into self pity.

At some point, I think I drifted off to sleep, tucked somewhere between comfortable layers of blankets. I dreamed a strange, mingled dream, something unpleasant about Snow and Coin finding Katniss and I in the woods on that day that I kissed her, only we were older, around our current ages, and suddenly Peeta came to watch, leading everybody I ever cared about and some that I didn't out of District Twelve, just as I had before the rebellion, and I even think that Plutarch was in there somewhere. It made absolutely no sense, and didn't piece together at all, but when I woke up panting and sweating hot from rolling and shaking on the couch, I was glad it was over.

**Please keep reviewing! I'll be able to post more soon, I think I have the last few of my ideas sorted and in chronological order now! Thank you so much to those who have reviewed!**

**Also, the remaining chapters in this story will not be this short! Sorry about the short-ness! :(**


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